


Monstrosity

by Lise



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Aggressively Disturbing Porn, Aphrodisiacs, Clint would rather not be in this fic tbh, Coercion, Dark, Drugged Loki, Drugged Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Loki's a goddamn mess, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oral Sex, Violence, and here we are again with the fucked up relationships, coerced sex, going to go sit in the ashamed porn corner, oops my keyboard slipped, sex which neither party involved really wants, the 'forced to fuck' fic, what do I even tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 17:43:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He was suddenly powerfully, acutely aware of the brush of air on the back of his neck. His skin prickled, his heart thudding faster and blood heating in his veins. A vague sense of arousal crept slowly through him, rising from deep in his belly.</i>
</p><p>Or the one where someone wants to enact Clint's nightmares and put Loki on his knees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monstrosity

**Author's Note:**

> This is a really ugly fic. First things first. This is a really. Ugly fic. I am fully aware of that. But the heart wants what it wants, and apparently the heart wants this hot mess. Or some other body part does. Notes that: yes, this is nonconsensual for both parties. (I should think that will be clear.) 
> 
> I'm not going to make any further apologies for this fic cause I don't even know what I would say. 
> 
> With thanks, as always, to my delightful [beta](http://zaataronpita.tumblr.com), who reads over my disturbing porn and reassures me that I'm not a bad person no matter what I like doing to fictional characters.

The door creaked open and Loki lifted his head with a quiet clinking of his chains. “Ah,” he said, voice acid dry. “A visitor. I’m honored, to be sure.” He didn’t try to rise. The metal collar around his throat with its chain to the floor would only make the attempt a humiliation. It was that which wouldn’t let him use his magic either. 

He’d been foolish. Erred. Well. These people would not hold him for long. 

The man who stepped in didn’t look familiar, and regarded Loki with an expression that made Loki’s temper prickle. He gestured to the water pitcher close enough for Loki to reach. 

“You haven’t had anything to drink.” 

“I don’t need my magic to smell something wrong with your offering.” Loki smiled thinly. “So what exactly is the purpose of this? Hoping to threaten me into aiding you in some petty endeavor? Seeking to divine the source of my power to use it for yourself?” 

“We have a few ideas for uses for you.” The man gestured behind him, and six others entered the room. “Drink the water, or we’ll make you.” He didn’t make the mistake of lowering his voice, kept it level. The threat was in the calm. Not a completely rank amateur, then. 

“I think not,” Loki said, letting his smile broaden a little. 

“Your call,” the man said, and pulled out a small device from his pocket. Loki narrowed his eyes. 

“What is-” _Click._ His mind exploded in white pain, limbs jerking helplessly in electric energy. It passed quickly, two men immobilizing his arms. He fought them with more fury than real pain, but again-

Two others, when the white faded, trying to pry open his jaw. Loki snapped at the fingers one of them, opened his mouth to jeer insults, and-

White again. His muscles jittered even after it faded, refusing to obey. It still took four of them to hold him down and pour the water with its strange tang down his throat. 

They left while he was still coughing, spitting insults with the air he could get.

* * *

Loki began to feel the effects almost immediately. Warmth suffusing his limbs like sinking into a hot spring, lethargy settling on his mind like he’d overindulged in drink. He fought it, but he was losing track of why he needed to. It felt good. Almost a relief, in truth; the cramping ache of his muscles locked in uncomfortable positions faded to insignificance. The desire to struggle against it slipped away before the ability to.

He floated, a pleasant haze enveloping him. 

They came back and loosed his chains. He felt distantly that there ought to be something he should do, but when they tugged him to his feet and told him to follow, he did so without argument. Why not, after all? Surely there was no evil in such kindness. He hadn’t felt so…calm…in years. Eons. 

They led him to another room, unremarkable, and one of the men with him stepped in close. Loki examined his face, but couldn’t quite recognize it. The stranger scrutinized his eyes closely, and Loki gave him a polite smile. 

“I’d offer to help you,” he murmured, “but I’m afraid I don’t think - I will be very helpful for a bit.” The sound of his own giggle startled him into another laugh, and he marveled at the sound of that. And that it felt nice to laugh. Why didn’t he do it more often?

“Give him ten minutes,” said the man standing close to him, and Loki frowned. That didn’t seem addressed to him, but…

“Ten minutes for what?” he asked, folding to sit on the floor, legs crossed. “Food, I hope – you’ve really been terribly disappointing hosts.” He snickered again. His curious observer stepped back. 

“Maybe five,” said another, sounding like he was trying not to laugh as they moved in a cloud toward the door. Loki opened his mouth to call after them, but he shivered, suddenly, the faint, drunk haze receding slightly. In its place…

He was suddenly powerfully, acutely aware of the brush of air on the back of his neck. His skin prickled, his heart thudding faster and blood heating in his veins. A vague sense of arousal crept slowly through him, rising from deep in his belly. His cock was heavy and hot between his legs. His thoughts cleared, for just a moment. It was enough to feel a wash of alarm that was unpleasant but nonetheless did not cool the desire that suddenly felt unnatural, not his own. He tried to fight it down, to reach his magic.

 _Some kind of drug,_ he thought, sluggishly. _Fight. What do they want from…_ but his thoughts fragmented into shards, want washing out the doubts and enveloping him in warm, languid, sweet…he ran his own hands over his body, drinking in every little sensation like thirsty earth. What was there to worry about? This was good.

The door opened again as his skin began to burn for something other than air or his own hands, and he lifted his head. Someone was being dragged in by the same men that had brought him, struggling viciously. _Relax,_ Loki wanted to say. _It’s fine. Everything’s…fine._

“What are you - no. Oh no.” That voice sounded familiar. Woke up a strange feeling in his chest that he didn’t understand. One of them came over and pulled him up by a handful of his hair, sending a jolt of painful pleasure straight to the core of him. He heard the low moan distantly as though it wasn’t quite his own, vague arousal waking into a low burning need, and he tried to lean into the man, reaching out to run his hands up his legs, seeking flesh. The weight of his clothes on skin felt too heavy. He wanted them to be gone, wanted air on skin, skin on skin, wanted someone else’s hands stroking his body…

He was shoved roughly back. “We’re ready here.” 

“Get the clothes off him.”

Hands tugged at his clothing. Someone’s thumb rubbed against his mouth and he parted his lips thoughtlessly, sucked the digit into his mouth and bit down lightly. Leather tore with the sound of a knife cutting through it, and he gasped at the sudden feeling of cool air on his chest, whispering against skin, and if they would only touch him then he could – he arched his back, hopefully, but no hands came to brush his skin.

But – there were hands on the laces of his breeches, and Loki arched up into even the slight brush of fingers, his cock twitching in its prison. He opened his eyes and looked dazedly at the man stripping him, found his face cool, disinterested. Loki reached out to pull him in, his whole body flexing taut as his loins were bared, his cock falling half hard against his thigh. 

“Touch me,” Loki breathed. He let his thighs fall apart, his back arched, body offered. “I want…” Someone snickered. 

“No,” said the man, and slapped Loki’s hand away. The sting of it surprised him and for a bare moment his head cleared, the haze fading from his vision. _Wrong._ He shook his head, trying to work out- _this is wrong. How dare, how dare they-_

It evaporated as someone’s fingers ran through his hair and he leaned into that with a shuddering sigh, the thoughts fading back into oblivion, everything sensation and nothing more. “Careful,” he heard one of them say, through the sound of his faintly plaintive moan. “Not quite far gone enough yet-”

“What the hell did you _do?_ ” That voice sounded familiar and he half turned toward it with a vague feeling of recognition. The thought vanished before Loki could catch it as someone took one of his nipples and rolled it between two fingers, the feel of that touch spidering through his whole body. His body bucked helplessly as they pulled away, his heart thudding too loudly in his own ears. Everything felt – it was so _much_. Exquisite, overwhelming sensitivity like he could feel every nerve and all of them screamed for more, now, _more._

He didn’t even consider fighting them as they manhandled him to his feet, knees threatening to give, every touch no matter how light waking up his body, making him _need._ They pushed him down to his knees before the man they’d brought in. He was already naked, and Loki could smell sweat, a rich male smell that stoked the fire in his belly.

“You want someone to touch you? Earn it. Make our guest feel _good_.” Yes. That seemed reasonable. That seemed – arousal throbbed in his belly. He knew how to please. It seemed natural to lean in, nuzzle against the tense muscle of the man’s thigh, hands running up the sides of his legs, tracing the line of his hipbones. Loki felt him squirm, tense. 

“What the-” A sharp crack. Loki started to draw back, but a hand at the back of his head stopped him. 

“I think he likes that,” one of the others murmured, close to his ear. “Go ahead. Give him a little more.”

“You sick motherf- _aaah._ ” His fingers curled comfortably over the flaccid length of his cock, the weight in his hand hot and pleasant and he wanted…Loki rubbed deliberately with his palm, felt flesh harden, felt him shudder with a faint noise. Loki’s own body throbbed with want, yearned for friction. 

_Please our guest._ He shifted, breathed lightly on the half-hard cock, bent his head, and swirled his tongue around the very tip. The man made a harsh sound in the back of his throat, his body going rigid as his penis swelled under Loki’s mouth. “The fuck do you think,” he heard harshly above him, and then behind, “Shut up or we’ll gag you.” 

It didn’t seem important, though, his attention absorbed by the sweet, slight curve of the hardening manhood in front of his face. Loki ran his thumbs lightly down either side of the shaft, stroking over soft skin, licking a slow line up the underside. The urge to smile rose as his hips jerked forward and Loki opened his mouth to envelop the head, warm and heavy on his tongue, his own need rolling in waves. _Good. Yes. This is good. Crawling wretch-_

“Too slow,” someone said. “I’m not here for a fucking romance novel, someone-”

A hand wrapped in his hair and shoved his head down. “Deeper,” someone commanded, and yes, that sounded – Loki slid his mouth down only to stop when he felt the blunt head nudging at the back of his throat, only for the hand in his hair to force him down just that little bit farther.

Loki’s body bucked. He almost gagged, swallowed convulsively, but the low sound of strained pleasure was sweet, _oh_ sweet, and Loki pushed down the unpleasantness and swallowed again, was rewarded by the bucking of his hips. He wanted, _needed_ to please, wanted to be touched and petted and used and fucked- 

A rough hand grasped Loki’s cock, suddenly, _tugged_ and he let out a muffled shout around the shaft down his throat, his whole body surging forward. 

“Stop,” he heard, distantly, in a voice thick with strain and – rage? He didn’t understand. How could he be displeasing, this was what he was supposed to do- he fell still. “Loki – Jesus, Loki, whatever they did, think, this isn’t you, this isn’t-” 

“Shut up,” snapped a harsh voice behind him. A rough palm rasped along his shaft in something straddling pleasure and pain and he thrust helplessly into it. But – _stop. He wants me to…_ Loki tried to draw his head back, at least to ask what he was doing wrong, but – hands caught his head again, and he struggled, anger welling up at these who dared to intervene, his thoughts a confused tangled muddle and his body still pulsing with desire that was only growing more intense.

A click. “Tell him to keep going.” That didn’t seem addressed to him. “Tell him to keep sucking your dick, that you want it.” Hands holding his head down. His heart started to pound, and there was something, _something- “Now.”_

“Loki.” His voice. He fell still. “Don’t stop.” He sounded strange, hollow. Loki hesitated. 

“Tell him you like the way your cock looks down his throat.” 

“I like the way my cock looks down your throat.” There was something under the flatness of tone, but the filth of the words made his body pulse, and Loki made a small sound. His tongue fluttered deliberately up against the vein on the underside of his penis and he drank in the shudder and faint pleased moan that went straight to his loins. His body throbbed with the thirsty need to be touched. The hand on him tightened, squeezed until it almost hurt and a plaintive sound burst from deep in his chest. 

“What do you think, Barton? Think he wants more?” _Yes,_ Loki thought desperately. _Please._

“You’re all gonna die,” a harsh, strained, familiar voice – familiar? From where? _Barton._ That name… “Trust me, you want it to be me-”

Someone hooted with laughter. A thumbnail dug into the cluster of nerves under his cockhead, lit his body on fire and then pulled away. His hips jerked helplessly and he whined into his – Barton’s, he had a name now – cock. “Come on,” someone urged. “Suck it. You’ve gotta _earn_ it, little whoring bitch.” Loki’s body pulsed with need and he swirled his tongue almost frantically. 

“What do you think,” a jeering voice said as Barton’s hips thrust forward and Loki opened his throat to take as much as he gave. “Think he wants you to fuck him, _Agent?_ You want that?” He could feel Barton’s body straining under him and pressed closer, swallowed him down all the way to the hilt until his throat filled to aching and he couldn’t breathe for one frantic moment. Then backed off, drew his mouth slowly back up, licking, suckling. 

“Nnh,” he heard above him, and “god, _god,_ ” panted desperately. Barton’s length felt hot on his tongue. He could almost feel the throb of his pulse, so _close_ to completion. There were hands on his ass, kneading flesh, spreading him open. He arched his hips into that touch only to jerk as one thick, blunt finger slimed with some kind of oil breached him, then another, scissoring to stretch him open. 

“It’s a nice ass. Sure you don’t want to…”

“I’m not even going to touch you,” Barton’s voice snarled. “I’ll let _him_ do whatever the hell he wants, sick fucking – _unh-_ “

The fingers inside him crooked and pressed down. Loki jerked violently, pleasure surging through him, cock jumping untouched, so hard it ached. _I need,_ he wanted to say, _touch me, please,_ his skin burning, his whole body on fire. He whined thinly into the cock in his mouth, stroked desperately with his tongue, found the sensitive ridge of flesh at the head and ran his tongue just lightly along it. 

Barton’s hips thrust forward, his back arched, and he came with a sound like one of pain. Loki started to pull back but hands held him again. “Swallow.” 

He swallowed. The seed tasted bitter, filled his throat faster than he could swallow and spilled out the corners of his mouth, but he took it all anyway, every last pulse. 

The fingers in his ass withdrew and wiped slick liquid on his skin. He felt both limp and too tense, didn’t even try to fight them as they pulled him back and to his feet, not if it meant being touched. He leaned into their hands. “Please,” he managed, breathlessly, trying to grind against one of their legs. “Please, I need – I want-”

There was a warm body under his hands, suddenly, pressed up against him. His cock was trapped against someone’s hip and groping his hands up he felt hot shoulders tensed under his grip. Loki tried to focus, panting, and found a familiar face, tantalizingly near to memory – ah. He was faintly startled he hadn’t recognized him at once. He couldn’t help a smile, raised one hand to brush the well-known features. Barton. Of course. “Clint,” he murmured. He rocked his hips forward, gasped with the friction against bare hot skin. His hawkling was trembling against him, and Loki stroked his cheek again. “Please…kiss me?”

He felt muscle cord tight against him, and the sound that he felt against his own chest didn’t seem like one of pleasure but the way he surged forward locked Loki’s cock between their bodies and it didn’t seem to matter, all he could think of the heat in his loins and the need in his body and the warm sweet male smell of his hawk, his _lover…_

“Listen to me,” hissed in his ear, low and quiet and desperate, and he shivered at the brush of warm air, not understanding. “Snap out of it, I can’t stop this, come _on-_ ”

He needed to come. Loki’s hands slid down to Clint’s hips and tried to pull him closer, rub against more of him, driving his hips in little desperate thrusts. “You have no idea what you’re fucking with,” Clint yelled, his voice sounding strangely distorted. But not directed at him. Unimportant. “No _goddamn_ idea-”

The other men were laughing, it sounded like, but what did that matter? His orgasm hovered just out of reach, and he strained for it, his body almost hurting for the intensity of how much he _needed-_

He felt something press at his ass for just a moment before they shoved it in. Not flesh. Hard and unrelieving and wide and his body clenched, trying to force it out as it split him in two but it didn’t stop until he was squirming, biting down on crying out, still hard – _how could he still be_ – it didn’t feel good anymore. Relief, there had to be relief, it needed to stop-

He made a fractured sound, grabbed at Clint’s shoulders to keep his feet. “Nngh – touch me,” he said, desperately. “Please, please, just-”

He bit back what wanted to be a scream as whatever had impaled him retreated, the drag unpleasant pain but his body was still throbbing with urgent arousal. “Do it,” someone said, and after a moment Barton’s hand wrapped around his cock, touch too light, almost making him scream again as they fucked in again with the device that felt, truly felt, as though he’d break apart on it, this wasn’t- this wasn’t-

The sound torn out of his throat was almost a sob. “ _Please!_ ”

“What the hell did you _do?_ ” His hawkling, pulling back, pulling his hand away, and the thing up his ass twisted impossibly deeper until it felt like it would punch through him and he _needed_ but couldn’t, couldn’t come, couldn’t calm down, his body burning searing too much, too _much–_

They pulled it out again and slammed it back in. _Pain_ seared like fire from his ass up along oversensitized nerves, up his spine, down his legs. Skin tore, blood spilled and the world shuddered.

His mind cleared. 

His body still ached. Pulsed. Throbbed with need. For a moment it was as though he could see himself, shamelessly wanton, wrecked, his captors cheering and Barton… _Barton_. For a moment, he only knew what was happening, not how it had, and wanted only to break, to destroy, to-

Then he was back in his body, but there was a corner of his mind still his own, between the pain and desire, some small piece that was _him,_ and he dropped his head forward in pretense of letting it fall to Barton’s shoulder. 

“When I say,” he said, quietly. Jeers, laughter. Pain, from the abuse being inflicted on his body. He shut that out, shut it all out, fought the painful arousal trying to overwhelm his thoughts, gathering scraps of willpower. He gasped, a ragged, broken sound, and hated more. “When I say, get down.” 

Barton shuddered. His whole body against Loki’s and he felt the rub of skin against his raging erection, jerked helplessly. _He should die for seeing you like this,_ snarled the rage, but no. No, he would have blood from those who truly owed him their pain. Who had orchestrated this, who thought they could use him like this. 

Loki brought his hands slowly in, in the guise of stroking Barton’s chest, and slowly to the collar at his neck. Braced himself. His body shuddered and jerked, outside of his control, the drug still wreaking havoc within him, forbidding release, forbidding everything but pleasure blending into pain blending into pleasure until he was breaking apart between the two- 

Loki hooked his nails under the thin metal. The pressure building in his groin felt like it would explode, his blood fever hot. He was going to die, to burn up and break open and fall into sick cold emptiness, oblivion. _No. I will not._ They thrust their toy into him once more, and he felt that, too, body straining and tearing to take what they forced into him as though he were nothing, a doll, a victim-

_Enough. No more._

“Get down,” he murmured, and stepped back just enough to give Barton room to drop. He gathered his will and his rage and the pain and arousal they’d filled him with, drew it all together, and _pulled._

The collar tore like paper. The pain was like the world breaking, but Loki forced his way through it, took the flood of power rushing back into him, and hurled it out in a concussive wave, hardly aware of the sound of his own scream. 

Everything went white for a moment, one blissful, beautiful moment of emptiness.

The room rolled under his feet as he came back, the dull sound of thunder – no, not thunder. Earthquake, he realized distantly, groping back to drag whatever they’d put in him out of his ass and dropping it without bothering to look. A powerful one, it seemed. Unusual. Usually a release of power didn’t manifest like that, but he supposed – the earth answering his rage. That seemed fair enough. 

He swayed with it. Their bodies lay like broken rag dolls on the rolling stones as they began to crack. That wasn’t good enough, he thought. He wanted to bathe in their blood. He wanted to crack their bones and suck out the marrow. He wanted-

“Loki!” Barton’s voice was sharp, and he turned his head. The man looked briefly frightened, but then his face was wiped blank. “Did you have a plan for getting out of here, maybe _before_ bringing down the house?” 

Impudent fool. Kill him. (No, that would just be a waste. He didn’t do this to you.)

The earth convulsed. _They’re dead,_ a faint, reasonable voice murmured to the rest of him. _What does it matter? You intend to live, don’t you?_ He didn’t think he’d ever burned with so much hate. Not all for them. 

_You let this happen._

“Yes,” Loki said, simply. He strode over, broke the bonds holding Barton with a sharp flick of his hand, and grabbed Barton’s wrist. For a moment, the man fought him. There was a buzzing in his ears, a strange hollowness to his chest, but what did it matter? _Survive. Whoever gave them the power…_

His thoughts felt broken and distorted, but he had enough focus to call his magic. He pulled power from the bucking earth under his feet and twisted both he and Barton out of the building crumbling around them.

* * *

It was almost mechanically that Loki summoned some fresh clothes – after scouring himself in a frigid stream – and then another set for Barton. He dressed himself without looking at the man and without saying a word. The rage was not gone, but it seemed to have gone cold. His head still felt empty, his thoughts dull.

Part of him wanted to open his veins and empty out all the filthy blood in him tainted by their vile drug, even knowing that his magic had burned it utterly away. Even knowing the time it would take to recover, if he could do it carefully enough to survive the experience. 

“What now?” Barton asked, finally, flatly. His voice was rough, awful, toneless. 

“I go.” Somewhere far away. His voice sounded harsh, Loki observed, and his throat ached. He knew why and knowing made him sick. _Argr. You were happy to…_

“Here I thought you were going to kill me.” Loki turned, fixed his gaze on Barton’s. Neither of them gave away anything, though Loki wondered what his archer might feel. Rage, doubtless. Disgust. Perhaps he ought to offer something. A kind word. Comfort. 

What was there to say?

“If you say a word of this, I will,” he said, with perfect sincerity. If Thor knew, if Thor _ever-_

Barton swallowed. Loki could still taste his semen at the back of his throat. It was an unpleasant taste, but thinking about it – unfulfilled desire was like a rock in his gut. “Yeah.” Loki turned, reached for his power. The spell he’d set would take effect in a couple hours. Barton would remember being rescued, would remember torture, but none of the rest. 

He’d seen the hollowness in the man’s eyes, and didn’t think he needed more. Didn’t want _anyone_ to know what had been done to him, Loki, a _god._

In a few hours, it would only be his memory. No one else need ever know. 

The hollow in his gut didn’t ease. The quiet in his head felt vast and empty and awful. 

He’d risen, Loki told himself, from worse.


End file.
